


London Calling

by Weasy



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Challenge fic, F/M, Post-Apocalyptic London, Post-Episode: s07e22 Chosen, Potential Slayers - Freeform, Tattoo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-10-25
Updated: 2004-10-25
Packaged: 2018-12-26 03:07:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12050007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Weasy/pseuds/Weasy
Summary: Buffy and the Slayers are in London trying to hold off hordes of demons, but her heart's just not in it.





	London Calling

**Author's Note:**

> The third Buffy Survivor (2004) fic, challenge was songfic, tattoo, leather, telephone
> 
> It's an ode to The Clash's London Calling, which always reminds me of Buffy.

The Ritz didn't look quite the same as it used to. A little more than ten years before the interior had been restored to it's original Louis XVI décor, matching everything down to the wallpapers.

Barely a week of having two-hundred Slayers living in it and it was beginning to resemble a day care centre. Super powered four-year-olds could do a lot of damage when they were left unsupervised. It was crazy but the whole of London was these days. Only a few short weeks ago the demons had declared open war on humanity, an act of desperation against the growing numbers of Slayers. There were no longer any demons vying for the protection of Leicester Square.

The rulers of every country had been forced to admit that they needed help.

So here she was, Buffy Summers the Vampire Slayer along with a literal army of Slayers at various stages of training that had been catapulted to the centre of the action.  
No one could really say why the demons had chosen London… but they had wasted no time in tearing it to pieces.

Buffy let her gaze fall across Piccadilly towards Oxford street and took in the sight of the territory they had managed to regain in the two weeks since they had arrived in the north of London and started reclaiming the land one street at a time. Rooting out demons from the slums to the boutiques. The humans had been evacuated so that the Slayers had pretty much had a free run of the city as they had paused to rest at the Ritz. Unfortunately as the top third of London had been freed the people had started to head back and though Buffy had told the Prime Minister that it wasn't safe for civilians yet he had been unwilling to listen. Pulling her leather jacket tighter around her and frowning Buffy turned away from the window, it seemed so futile. To have achieved so much - to have the tools to physically make a difference and to still be forced into more and more difficult situations. Especially by those who had little understanding of those things she understood more than any other, but power over those things she had none.

Still she had a job to do and she would do it, whether she really wanted to fight anymore or not. 

She wanted him to be here. Wanted it more than was reasonable.

"Buffy?" Spinning Buffy faced the young Slayer that had snuck into her rooms and cursed her distraction that she had not heard her. "Willow said there's a nest down by Bond Street that needs dealing with tonight."

Buffy frowned. "We covered Bond Street earlier."

The girl just shrugged. "Maybe they snuck in after we left."

Buffy sighed and motioned that they should leave as she followed the Slayer out Buffy desperately trying to remember what her name was.

Glancing around the hallway as they walked she caught sight of the back of her messenger's neck, there half-hidden by her dark plait was a tattoo. Two wings curled up from either side of the column of her neck and the figure between them sat with their back to Buffy. Even with the rough quality of the design she could tell it was a man.

Touching the girl's shoulder Buffy pulled her round to face her. "Niamh?" She asked hesitantly.

Niamh's head cocked hesitantly at her. "Are you okay?"

"I just… the tattoo, on your neck… it's very… unusual."

Niamh laughed. "It's silly - I keep meaning to get that removed."

"Why did you get it done then?"

"My family came from Ireland originally, before they moved away nearly all of the family was wiped out when plagues ravaged their village. One of the victims was my grandmothers brother, she swears blind saw him come back as an angel of death to judge those who sinned in the village… he was probably a vamp, now I come to think of it."

"The tattoo is of the brother." Buffy finished. She knew the story well, it was one of many that Angel had confessed that Christmas past.

"Yeah." Niamh looked down, "I guess it must seem weird and creepy but it makes me feel kind of safe. Every time I go to have it removed I keep thinking about how naked I would feel without it."

Buffy smiled and wondered what Angel would think that someone found the idea of him comforting, when the only part they knew was Angelus. It was a little mind-bending but equally… not at all strange. "Trust me it doesn't seem weird at all." Hesitantly Buffy went on. "There's this guy... even though he's not around anymore, I always feel like he's watching out for me."

Niamh raised one eyebrow. "Why don't you just call him?"

"I have been, in our own sort of way. I'm hoping he'll realise it sometime soon."

Nimah just looked more confused at that, but there was no way Buffy could really explain the link between herself and Angel. Biting her lip as she tried to attempt it her but her thoughts were cut off by the shrilling ringing of her telephone. Pulling it out of the depths of her jacket she barely had time to say hello before she was cut off by Willow's excited voice.

"Buffy! Angel's here…" She went on but Buffy dropped the phone as she swept past Niamh to the stairs, running she was in the lobby in a moment. There he was all brooding good looks… his lip twitched and she could tell he was trying to work out what she was thinking.

Smiling in return she closed the distance between them and she felt his lips on hers, hungrily questing entrance which she automatically allowed; as a thousand explosions sparked in her mind. Love wasn't brains… it was blood and hers was screaming for its mate.

Her mate had heard her blood calling.


End file.
